The Truth About De Campo(2)

Riccardo’s coal-black eyes flashed. “As much as I would dearly love to have you out of the picture right now, I need you. And I think you need a challenge. Badly.”

Matteo couldn’t deny the truth of that statement. He’d almost doubled sales as head of De Campo’s European operations. Was killing it in his new role. But his brother continued to handcuff him, as if he was afraid to unleash him.

He sank his fingers into the knot of his tie and yanked it loose. “You don’t trust me.”

“I wouldn’t have given you the job if I didn’t trust you.”

“Then why the hand-holding?”

His brother’s gaze darkened. “You’ve been knee-jerk in the extreme the last six months, Matty. You’re like a cowboy with his guns drawn at all times.”

“I’m hungry,” Matteo growled. “Give me something to sink my teeth into and you will have my complete and utter focus.”

“Exactly my thinking.” Riccardo plucked a magazine from the surface of his immaculate desk and held it up. “Warren Davis just bought the Luxe Hotel chain.”

Matteo nodded. The purchase by the world’s third richest man, an investment genius revered around the world, had made headlines a few weeks back. The confirmation of a deal that had been in the works for months. “I looked into it a while ago,” he told Riccardo. “Patreus has it locked up for another three years.”

“Not any more they don’t.” Riccardo tossed the magazine on his desk. “Davis is reevaluating all suppliers.”

He frowned. “How do you know that?”

“I played poker with a close friend of his on Monday night. De Campo is now in the running for marquee wine partner.”

Matteo sucked in a breath. “That’s a six-or seven-million-dollar contract, minimum.”

“Ten.” The hungry light he knew so well flared in his brother’s eyes. Antonio De Campo, their father, had built De Campo into a global wine empire. Riccardo, with his endless thirst to make his mark, had driven it even higher with the restaurant division he was building. But for the core wine business, which was still all-important, this was huge. It would mean De Campo would be featured in every single one of Luxe’s legendary restaurants worldwide. The coveted locations where politicians, princes and A-list celebs dined...

Merda. This was massive. “What next then?”

“Davis has put his daughter, Quinn, in charge of restaurant operations. She will be the final decision-maker on the wine contract. The Davises are doing a chemistry test with the four short-listed companies next week in Chicago. From there they’ll pick the final two to pitch for the business.”

“A chemistry test? What in God’s name is that?”

“Warren Davis is all about the relationship aspect of business. Common ideals, common philosophies, he says, are the keys to creating a successful partnership. It’s not always about what looks best on paper for him. The four short-listed companies are all great candidates. It will be the chemistry we have with Davis and his daughter that will put us in the final two.”

Helpful then, that Matteo happened to be a master at persuading a female to do his bidding. “What form will this chemistry test take?”

“A cocktail party at the Davis residence.”

Matteo’s lip curled. “Like sharks circling one another...”

“Pretty much.” Riccardo rhymed off two of the largest spirit companies in the world who had swallowed up smaller regional winemakers and a niche producer out of southern Australia.

“Silver Kangaroo?”

Riccardo nodded. “They’ve been winning some big awards lately.”

“Yes, but odd. They are so niche.” He gave his head a shake. “Any idea which way they’re leaning?

“Quinn, apparently, has her eye on Silver Kangaroo. We are considered an outside shot.”

Against the odds. Exhilaration tightened his body, sent his blood coursing through his veins. Just the way he liked it. When was the last time he’d felt that rush? That elemental surge of adrenaline he needed to feel alive? If Quinn Davis preferred a pure wine player they had a shot. Now all he had to do was work his magic.

“Do we have any intel on Quinn Davis?”

“Tough, smart, Harvard-educated.” His brother handed him a folder. “It’s all in here.”

Matteo took it and lifted a shoulder. “She’ll be all right, then.”

Humor darkened his brother’s gaze. Riccardo had gone to Harvard, Matteo to Oxford. It was a standing debate between them which was superior.

Matteo leafed through the folder. “Quinn manages some of his companies for him, doesn’t she?”